


im tired, let me delude myself

by NoBody_NoCrime2020



Category: Eminem (Musician), Machine Gun Kelly (Musician)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Angst, Insecurity, M/M, Unrequited Love, insecure kells, moody ass em
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28929612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoBody_NoCrime2020/pseuds/NoBody_NoCrime2020
Summary: lmaoooo guess who was taught how to put in italicsssssagain insecure kellsi just realised how hard it is to make a summary jfc
Relationships: Colson Baker | Machine Gun Kelly/Eminem
Kudos: 23





	im tired, let me delude myself

this sucked. all of this fucking sucked. his heart and head better be joking because there is no way he is crushing on Marshall motherfucking Mathers. fuck, what was he going to do? the man hates him, and with good reason. Colson was just supposed to make it up to the rapper by being his little slut, he wasn’t even being treated like a person during their little meet-ups, which was understandable.

but, what threw the blond whore of his path of expectation and skewed his reality of the man was the small, considerate, inconsistent gestures. sometimes, unprompted, Em would leave a note—‘ _check out time is 4pm -MM_ ’— and a water bottle, and if he’s lucky, a chocolate bar—‘ _you’re too skinny, plus I’m pretty sure I fucked out some much needed calories last night._ ’ the fucker.

at first, the pop rock artist doesn’t know why he feels his stomach flip at these irregularly done niceties. but as time went on and their rendezvous got more and more frequent, Colson realises, rather pathetically if you ask him, that he’s fucking falling for the man. he’s furiously aware of how his breath stutters when the brunet even touches him gently, how he timidly notices the burning in his eyes when the brunet sucks his neck.

in attempts to convince himself to hate the man, he would provoke Em with his ballsy confidence and cocky arrogance, and in turn, Em would end up fucking him until he’s choking on his own spit, tears and sweat wetting the bed he’s being fucked an inch of his life on. and it would work, the scratches, bites and bruising grip is enough for him to believe that this is still all fuelled by Eminem’s hatred. but then, the man would have the audacity to ask him if he’s ‘- _okay, Colson? hey, baby, you alright?_ ’ and _no_ , he’s _not_ , because he’s breaking the blond’s reality and he’s not supposed to be doing this, but he frantically nods, and that’s enough for the man behind him.

Colson doesn’t understand why he’s doing all these unnecessary politeness, their agreement was the blond being Em’s fucktoy as an apology, ‘a sacrifice to appease the god that you’ve upset’ as the brunet put it. there was no emotion to it, ~~at least it wasn’t supposed to be~~ , that was his wording, ‘fucktoy’, not fuckbuddy or whore or slut, because if it were to be any of those, the blond boy would be humanised somewhat. and he’s accepted that title, accepted that he’s going to be treated as such. that’s why it threw Colson off when it was Em that had thefucking curtesy to treat him like a human being.

but then again, the boy was so deprived of romantic affection from anyone else in a long time, he doesn’t even know what love is supposed to feel like anymore. he knew this. this is what he says to himself, to stop or at least keep the emotion at bay.

he hates it. he really, really fucking hates it. he doesn’t deserve those soft fucking touches. he doesn’t deserve it nor does he want it. why would he even delude himself like that? does he really think Marshall would love him back? what would he even like in Colson? he hates the boy’s personality, that’s been established already, and he’s said everything he despises about the pathetic, lanky boy’s physique,

_“are you even a man, kelly? look at yourself, you have a body of a tall ass ten year old-”_

_“ y’know, maybe you’d get more pussy if you put on some weight-”_

_“god, kid, do you even fucking sleep? my face looks younger than you-“_

_“you look fucking disgusting, this is why i fuck you from behind-“_

but, god, he’s lucky they don’t do it face to face, because he can feel the tears being pulled from his eyes by the words the man he’s admired for years say, he can already hear the mockery and anger in the man’s voice saying ‘ _what the fuck is wrong with you? why the fuck are you crying huh?! fucking faggot, can’t take some simple criticism_ ’but that’s kind of what he deserves, doesn’t he? thinking he can take The God of Rap, for being stupid and arrogant and reckless and overconfident.

a part of Colson wants him to say that. this is his punishment. this is what he deserves.

yet, he still fell for that part of Em that he never should’ve seen or felt. he was probably thinking of someone else when he’s fucking him so gently, those words were probably directed to her, not him, but he likes pretend that it is.

he loves him. Colson loves him. and he drinks what’s more than enough just to punish himself for being so fucking pathetic and careless and stupid and so, so delusional. he drinks at home, all alone, with his daughter at her mom’s, and his friends unaware. he doesn’t want them to see him like this, he doesn’t want to risk saying he’s a fag. he knows they’re a lot more understanding than that. but he’s not ready for them to know how much of a pussy he really is.

he drank until he blacked out. so, naturally, he woke up with one bitch of a hangover, which didn’t help the emotions causing a hurricane in his stomach, and his logic warring in his head. but he checked his phone to come to some sense of a routine and there’s a text. from the person he was drinking his woes away.

‘same place. 4pm.’

it was apathetic and cold.

Colson stood up with his head filled with lead, hands almost missing his keys. and he drove.

the hungover, blond boy didn’t bother knocking and unintentionally stomped his way in the hotel room, pushing the door with too much force than he intended, causing the loud slam of the door.

“the fuck is your problem?! what’s wrong with you?!” Em, rightfully angered, yelled, springing up from his seat.

“i just wanna g-get this over w-ith,” came his sluggish, pissy response, roughly and messily struggling to get his clothes off.

rolling his eyes, “you didn’t have to tell the entire hotel, jackass!” he gestured wildly, something in the blond’s vulnerable state thought was kind of cute.

“mm,”

the blond’s head hurt, it’s like he could feel his brain sloshing around in his skull, but he could manage. after getting all his clothes off, he turns around andnearly walks into Em, standing right in front of him, face scanning Colson,

“you fucking drunk, kid?” the boy rolls his eyes to tomorrow, easily irritated and emotionally exhausted. god, if only he knows how much the tired, blond boy cried about him last night.

after a chaste sigh, “no, just hungover—“ Marshall’s face didn’t turn soft at that, no, he’s probably annoyed at him and is calming himself as to not get pissed, “—so let’s just get this over with, alright?”

without a second to spare, the brunet pushes Colson into the bed. the tall boywinces but says nothing, adjusting himself to a more comfortable position, “stay,” somehow, the command didn’t feel all that commanding, but that’s probably just in his head. he feels Em leave the room to most likely get something, which he wishes isn’t a cock ring like last time, he genuinely thinks he doesn’t have the mental capacity or emotional endurance to not start crying the second he’s denied.

Em comes back, he doesn’t move, just waiting what kind of torture device of a sex toy the man has brought. “here.” and a rattling noise he’s familiar with. a pill bottle. face contorted into a wince and confusion,he sits up and he sees that it’s advil.

“what.” it came out as more of a statement than a question, just out of pure shock, “for your fucking hangover, idiot.” Marshall said like it was the most obvious thing, and it is, but the blond was lagging, so he could cut the boy some slack.

he reaches for the bottle— “thanks...?”— and pop one into his mouth, and wasting no time at all, Em starts kissing him and the kid just resigns to the kiss, accepting that he would never have the guts to tell the man his foolish feelings. then, Colson catches something that he feels something his head would lie about to make him feel temporarily loved, ‘i care about you, kid’. at first, he thinks it’s all in his hungover mind but he feels the soft murmur against his pale skin, and it there are more words that are being muttered— ‘take care of yourself, Colson. i don’t wanna see you hurt, god, you’re gorgeous,—‘.

the tired, blond boy feels his headache dissipate but, god fucking damn it, he’s exhausted. exhausted from crying, from his emotions, from fucking trying to understand the man he’s childishly fallen for. he wants to pretend but he’s so tired, so instead, he lets himself have this, he’s going to regret this later when Em eventually leaves him because he’s not worth his spare time.

Colson kisses back with raw, unadulterated passion, making the kiss wet and sloppy, yet he doesn’t fucking care, at least right now. and to his pained surprise, Marshall kisses back with the same fervour. they make out until the blond boy was gasping, tired eyes overflowing with tears he doesn’t even remember, “hey, it’s alright, i got you,” warm hands is holding Colson together and ripping him apart at the same gesture of wiping away his tears.


End file.
